<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Liberosis by fuzzyadversary</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909478">Liberosis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyadversary/pseuds/fuzzyadversary'>fuzzyadversary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Tiny Bit Philosophical, Because most of the time he has the empathetic capacity of a baked potato, Episode: s13e13 Devil's Bargain, Gen, Human Lucifer (Supernatural), Lucifer going on a journey of realisation, Lucifer is So Done (Supernatural), Mostly?? canon, My First AO3 Post, Please have mercy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:42:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyadversary/pseuds/fuzzyadversary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(n) The desire to care less about things.</p>
<p>Lucifer finds a sole admirable quality in humans - and then wishes he didn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Liberosis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucifer strolls on into a small town in Missouri. Even on the distant fringe of the suburbs, the area seems brimming with too many irreverently cheerful humans for the devil’s mood to be anywhere near tolerant. </p>
<p>Lucifer’s being is all but a flickering light without a healthy portion of his grace. The failing of his angelic immunity towards feeling things – ew – is gradual process, slipping into foreign physical sensations, things he won’t ever be ready to deal with. Everything that makes him himself is dwindling into an abyss Lucifer can do nothing to resist, snuffed out into the epitome of lesser. A whiny, meaningless little human. </p>
<p>At least, Lucifer isn’t whiny, not any more whiny than usual. If he does whine, he whines at himself in his head. It’s his vessel, his body, doing the whining right now. There’s an unwelcome feeling tugging at him from the inside, relentless and empty. Lucifer is aware that the feeling is hunger, and it’s accompanied by another unpleasant, although more familiar sensation. This one has him grasping the inadequately insulating fabric of his jacket closer, with his arms crossed to steal back any morsel of heat so casually ripped away from him. Cold. Lucifer has always been cold, but never has it caused him such discomfort as to writhe in his skin with every step further into civilisation he takes.</p>
<p>Occasionally, he’ll pause to sneer at the humans passing him, dressed more appropriately for the seasonal weather. They’re happy, shopping and other generic human things, and the consistent chatter is beginning to grate on Lucifer’s notably limited capacity to put up with their existence. The more frustrating truth is that he has to push himself to ignore them. After all, there are greater matters at hand, consisting of somehow achieving food and warmth to reach his own personal level of humanly bliss literally everyone seems to be carrying. </p>
<p>Well, not everyone.</p>
<p>The few homeless of the town sit in the dirt and filth on the sidewalk with their cups and cardboard. It generates enough sympathy in some humans to earn a few bucks. Lucifer does as he must to learn, and observes, somewhat repulsed by the nature of his life now. Temporarily, of course. He’d rather crawl his way out of Hell backwards than become entirely human. So far, his experience with it has been nothing but unpleasant, to say the least. His being is still greatly disturbed by the clawing hunger and biting cold, only growing in intensity whilst Lucifer’s ability to generally keep his shit together diminishes.  </p>
<p>Lucifer’s half-baked solution to all of his problems is to eat up the grace of other angels in order to temporarily sustain his own, which would promptly turn into a wonderful idea if there was a single wing flapper in sight. No angels in this town. Not one, and Lucifer is having difficultly sensing the presences of them. It’s all very disconcerting for him, to be thrown from the pedestal of his pride and become that which he despises.</p>
<p>“Give me some money. C’mon, man. Or your jacket?” The bench Lucifer is sitting on is cold stone, and sucking any heat he manages to create from him. Every passer by either flat out avoids eye contact, or stares blankly, with a minor distaste towards him. Other humans begging for money get spare change, or offered food and drink. Not him. Lucifer’s mood drops darker, again. </p>
<p>Humans. Shitty bags of meat that can spare sympathy for their own kind, but not Lucifer. Not him. Undeniably, Lucifer takes offense. He has to. He looks human; he acts fairly human (for the sake of gaining their sympathy), but no matter where he goes and how much he lies and manipulates, they never trust him, or see him as equal, and that’s probably still Dad’s fault. Good. Lucifer isn’t equal. He’s better than them, divinely higher, greater and more terrifying than their tiny minds can comprehend. It’s his way of separating himself from the walking fleshy balls of selfishness. But right now, physically, he’s almost one and the same with them, and that infuriates the devil.</p>
<p>A few hours later into the afternoon and after a prolonged amount of fruitless begging, Lucifer is forced to string together alternate strategies. He watched as the streets cleared out, mostly. Half of the townsfolk are eating out in restaurants and annoyingly quaint cafés. It’s in wandering past them on the street that Lucifer stumbles into another profound realisation. Although his time so far as an almost human has been distressing to say the least, that means humans probably feel all the shitty stuff too. They’re living life the same as him right now, and yet, they made something of themselves. Real lives. Ones where they can afford food and warmth relatively easily, some whenever they please. Humans are superior to him in this. Whatever charm or lie Lucifer construes, he can’t seem to grasp the same standard of living. He’s an archangel. He should be superior in every shape and form – but he’s not. Not this time. </p>
<p>For a fleeting moment, Lucifer admires them.</p>
<p>And then he hates them even more.</p>
<p>Fine. He’ll do things his way. Lucifer is Lucifer, and Satan gets what Satan wants, graceless or not. He does some surveillance of the stores around. A small, local one will do, as long as it sells food. And maybe jackets. Stealing is least stereotypically evil thing he’ll do in his life, and he’s doing it to survive. It’s perfectly justified, and has him grinning when the moral high he achieves from his own reasoning. And with that, Lucifer steals two sandwiches and a few bottles of water, and runs as fast as his meagre human legs can carry him. He’s fast, but only for a minute or so. Fatigue sets in, and the devil is left dragging himself around corners, gasping for air. Fuck this.</p>
<p>The singular clerk of the store must have had enough of an equally difficult day, because no one gave chase to Lucifer, or called the authorities. Lucifer appreciates how lucky he is, just for once, and the gruelling walk navigating towards the only park in town has him really ready for that sandwich. It truly feels as if the life has been drained from him when he finds a suitably secluded bench to enjoy his food on, joined in close proximity by a few ducks, gazing longingly at his stolen goods. </p>
<p>Creeping in is a colder breeze, the first touch of night air, and Lucifer has no means of keeping himself any warmer. Maybe he could start a fire. Humans can do it, so why can’t he? Though, that’s been his attitude all day and look where it got him - even the ducks waddled off when he wouldn’t feed them. The humans are in their picturesque houses as the evening dawns, with their heating and Netflix while the devil sits on a park bench, loathing the world, humans, and the ducks. The stingy, homicidal species of intellectually advanced apes dominating this dismal rock lives comfortably, despite their abundant flaws.</p>
<p>Lucifer is at a loss to just how they do it, how they get on with their painful and insignificant lives and make something of themselves. Something temporary and futile, but something .In truth, that could be the point of all this. He has great respect for that, exceedingly more than Lucifer ever thought he’d have. </p>
<p>And he wishes he didn’t.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>